


Slut

by Atilol



Category: Marilyn Manson (Band)
Genre: Dirty Talk, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-03
Updated: 2012-11-03
Packaged: 2017-11-17 16:28:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/553585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atilol/pseuds/Atilol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shamless RPF porn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slut

He looks down at the pale skin spread before him. Naked, Twiggy manages to look far more feminine than he does normally. Even in the dress. He’s all soft lines and gentle sloping curves, but that’s not why Manson likes him. 

It’s not even the way Twiggy looks up at him, his eyes bordering on reverent. 

It’s not even the way he groans Manson’s name when he comes, hard. 

What it is that draws him to Twiggy, Manson couldn’t tell you. And, if he could, he sure as fuck wouldn’t. 

Manson draws a blunt fingernail down the bumps of Twiggy’s spine. He’s splayed over the bed in the most undignified way, limbs spread wide and ready. Manson is fully clothed; down to his tightly laced combat boots. 

It’s the way he likes it. 

There’s something about Twiggy, hard, whimpering, and clearly wanting, that pulls deliciously at Manson’s less than reputable heart strings. 

“Please,” a soft voice murmurs, and Manson looks down at the man before him on the bed. He sits down beside Twiggy, petting a hand down his sides in a parody of tenderness. 

With a saccharine sweetness that only looks good on those that don’t know they’re wearing it, Twiggy slides to the floor, his fingers drifting lazily to the zip of Manson’s pants. It’s comical, really, because even though Twiggy’s sober, the qualities of his movements belied a drugged quality that was the essence of the strange magic that was innately Twiggy. 

Manson is hard, unbelievably so, as Twiggy’s slender fingers take his cock out. He looks up at Manson, and reaches a pink tongue out to lick the bead of precome pearling at the head of his cock. Violently, Manson’s hand shoots out and wraps itself in the tangles mess of Twiggy’s dreads. Wrenching his neck at an impossible angle, Manson’ forces Twiggy’s watering eyes to him. 

“Don’t fucking tease me,” he murmurs, his tone that of poisoned chocolate. 

The arousal pooling in Twiggy’s stomach takes a sharp spike at the tone of Manson’s voice. It’s the tone that promising a sound fucking, if only Twiggy will play along for a while longer. 

Acquiescing with a demure lowering of his eyes, Twiggy lays the flat of his tongue against the thick vein lining the underside of Manson’s cock before swiftly swallowing him down to the root in a move born of nothing other than excessive practice. Manson groans, his hands still twisting in Twiggy’s hair. The pain grinds along Twiggy’s nerves and only intensifies his arousal. 

Hollowing his cheeks, he sucks up and down Manson’s cock. A twin ache in his ass reminds him of painfully empty he is. Down to his last resort, he rakes his teeth gently over Manson’s erection. 

The shoddy control that Manson had was obliterated, and he picked Twiggy up in a swift movement, throwing him on the bed. He looked quite menacing, really, glaring down at Twiggy. His face was framed by the long curtain of his hair, the look in his eyes something akin to madness. It was power. 

Pushing Twiggy’s face into the pillow, he pulled his hips up and propped them with a pillow. 

“Suck,” he commanded, pushing two fingers abruptly into Twiggy’s mouth. Twiggy nodded, his wet, hot tongue probing between Manson’s digits. 

“I’m going to fuck you, you know,” he murmured, his voice dangerous as he ripped his fingers from Twiggy’s mouth and inserted them brutally into Twiggy’s entrance. Twiggy keened in pain that rode on waves of pleasure, mind numb as he nodded dumbly. 

“You’re a little whore, Twig,” he whispers lovingly. “I hope you know that.” Opening the beside drawer, he slicks his cock up with the thinnest coat of lube in utilitarian preparation. “But you’re my whore, and I don’t share,” He said, his cock stabbing home into Twiggy on the last word. 

Any sort of banter that may have occurred after that was lost in the cacophony of limbs and bliss. Twiggy was unbearably hot and tight around Manson, murmuring obscenities in his little voice as Manson’s cock rubbed over his prostate on every thrust. His hips canted backwards to meet every forward movement of Manson’s, fucking and much as being fucked. 

Manson’s hands came and wrapped around his waist. He knew he’d have finger-shaped bruises tomorrow, and the thought excited him far more than it should have. He was close. 

“You look so fucking good like this,” Manson coos, “bouncing up and down on my cock like a little slut.” His hands tightened on Twiggy’s skin in a vice grip, meant to hurt and enforce ownership. 

“Manson,” Twiggy moaned, “Fuck, I’m gonna come,” he cried, his voice breaking as thick ropes of come shot from him and coated his belly a sticky white. As he came, his ass clenched impossibly tight around Manson. Three thrusts later and he was coming, too, his hot semen coating Twiggy’s walls in a possessively soothing way.  
He pulled out gently, and lay down next to Twiggy, both breathing heavily. After a moment, he stands and removes his clothes before heading to the bathroom. Twiggy hears the water run, and enjoys the pleasant ache in his ass. 

_I’m his,_ he thinks, _the bruises prove it._

Manson finally leaves the bathroom, a hot towel in hand. He wipes Twiggy down silently, his face stoic. Twiggy finally tilts his face up to meet his, and kisses him gently. 

“You know that I love you,” Manson assures, his voice soft and unsure.

Twiggy laughs. “Yeah, Manson. I’m not fucking blind, you know that.” 

In an uncharacteristic measure of revelry, Manson grabs a pillow and swats Twiggy over the head with it. 

“Go to sleep, asshole,” he commands, pulling Twiggy to his concave stomach. 

“Okay,” Twiggy murmurs, “You, too, though.”

And, so, they slept.


End file.
